Let Them Bake Cake
by Kindre Turnany
Summary: Derek and Stiles bake Isaac a birthday cake.


Happy Birthday, Sasha!

**~.x.~**

Derek crossed his arms. "This is the stupidest idea you've ever had."

"No, dude, it's awesome." Stiles grinned, motioning for Derek to follow him into the kitchen. "Trust me."

"Your idea of awesome is stupid."

"Stop being such a grump." Stiles pulled on a plaid apron and held out a blue one for Derek. "You asked me for help. I'm helping."

"I'm beginning to regret asking." Derek scowled at the apron. "I'm not wearing that."

Stiles shrugged. "Your soon-to-be-flour-covered clothes." He dropped the apron on a chair instead of putting it away though.

Derek growled. "Forget it. I'm leaving."

"No," Stiles said, grabbing Derek by his jacket. "I'm serious. You can spend all the money you want, and it won't matter. Just give Isaac something he can share with his friends."

"There are other things he could share." Derek only turned partway when he spoke.

"Yeah, but I don't know how to make those." Stiles shrugged and tugged lightly at Derek's jacket. "You'll want to take this off at least."

Derek sighed, and it sounded like defeat. He shrugged out of the jacket and hung it across the back of the chair with Stiles' blue apron. "I'm still buying him a real gift," he grunted, as though that could make this less humiliating.

"Then I recommend an Xbox. But only _in addition to _homemade cake and a birthday party." Stiles grinned and began pulling ingredients from the cupboard and fridge. "Have you ever baked before?" He asked, popping his head out from behind the refrigerator door.

"Not since I was a kid." Derek turned to study the counter as he spoke. "It was more like mixing the batter so I could lick the bowl," he admitted.

"Yeah, I did the same thing." Stiles paused. "When my mom baked."

They stayed quiet for a moment, neither quite sure how to take what they just shared. It would have been easier if they were friends. Then Stiles smiled again and began rambling about the history of cake-making until Derek rolled his eyes and told him to shut up.

"How can I tell you to preheat the oven if I shut up, huh?" Stiles motioned to the oven as he spoke, as though Derek couldn't find it with his own eyes. "Three-fifty degrees. Hit bake first, then pick the temperature." He climbed on the counter to pull baking pans down from the top shelf.

"I know how an oven works. And I could have gotten those."

"Dude, climbing inappropriately is like my favorite pastime; why would you try to rob me of that?" He frowned at Derek's forehead. "Also it's rude to rub your height in my face."

"No it's not. Stop being a brat."

Stiles smacked his forehead into his palm. "I was making a joke. This is why people don't like you, Derek. No sense of humor."

"Just make the stupid cake, Stiles." Derek frowned.

"Boil two cups of water," Stiles said, half-throwing a pot at Derek. "And it's not a stupid cake. It's a beautiful cake, and it doesn't appreciate you trying to put it down."

Derek filled the pot with water from the tap, estimating two cups since Stiles hadn't given him anything to measure with. "The cake doesn't exist yet."

"We exist. Our intent to bake exists. Isaac's upcoming birthday exists." Stiles greased the pans while he spoke. "So the cake is going to exist very soon. And its existence will be delicious."

Derek stood beside his water on the stove, not sure what else to do but glare at Stiles. "This is going to be even more exhausting than that time we were paralyzed."

"Wow, so cheery today." Stiles glared right back at Derek. "Would it help to pretend one of us is going to die unless we bake and then eat this cake? It could be some sort of witch's curse."

"It would help if you shut up."

"Not gonna happen, dude." He motioned at the jumble of foodstuffs on the counter. "Why don't you start mixing the dry ingredients while I pretend to consider shutting up for you."

Derek grabbed a bowl from Stiles and moved to stand by the dry foods. He stared blankly at them for a moment. "How much?" Stiles hadn't given him a recipe, didn't even have a recipe out.

"Oh, I usually just..." He shook his head. "Remember."

"How often do you bake cakes?" Derek raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Stiles shrugged. "A few times a year. Scott's mom and my dad are both kind of busy for birthday planning, so... I guess I just cover both our families."

"You make your own birthday cake."

"Not just mine. I—" Stiles cut off when Derek held up a hand.

"Just write down how much."

Stiles nodded and grabbed a notepad off the counter. After tearing a grocery list off to reach a blank page, Stiles wrote down everything Derek needed. "Why'd you come to me anyway?" Stiles asked as he handed over the paper. "I mean, you and Scott know Isaac way better than I do."

Derek grunted as he measured out flour but otherwise ignored the question.

"Hey, I'm talking here." Stiles poked Derek's arm.

"I know." He swatted Stiles' arm away when the poking didn't stop.

Stiles scowled and turned on the electric mixer. It wasn't loud enough to make talking impossible, but it would cover up just enough to pretend it was. He focused more than necessary on the butter and sugar in his bowl as Derek added dry ingredients to the other one. Derek measured out half a teaspoon of salt and then stared at his bowl because that was the last thing on the list.

"Dude, water's boiling," Stiles told him, jabbing a thumb out toward the stove.

Derek took the water off the warm burner and turned to Stiles expectantly. "What is it for?"

"Grab a bowl and mix it with a cup of cocoa powder." Stiles stared into the slowly creaming butter and sugar mix as he spoke.

"Why couldn't we just use boxed cake mix? Or buy a cake?"

"You are a terrible person, Derek Hale. Next you'll suggest we buy the frosting." Stiles grinned when he said it.

Derek turned to him slowly. "You mean we have to make frosting too?"

Stiles laughed at the look on Derek's face. "Don't worry. It's easy. And by 'easy' I might mean I'm taking care of it while you admire my talent." Then he smirked at the white powder on Derek's black jeans. "I see you definitely didn't need that apron."

"Shut up." Derek measured out the cocoa and began stirring it into the hot water.

"No, actually, it's a really good look for you. Tough guy but with a gentle baking heart." Stiles nodded and chuckled at his own joke.

Derek growled, swiping the flour off his pants. He grabbed the apron Stiles had left on one of the chairs. "Happy now?" He asked, holding out his arms to show off his new accessory.

"Ecstatic. Let me get a picture."

Stiles pulled out his phone, but Derek grabbed it from him before he opened the camera app. "No pictures."

"Oh, so is this like a private moment between the two of us then?"

"I just don't want any evidence it was me who murdered you over a cake." Derek grabbed Stiles by his shirt collar and loomed over him.

"Dude, what did we say about my house?" Stiles asked, pushing Derek lightly.

Derek rolled his eyes and let Stiles go.

"I'm just gonna put out there that you have some serious anger issues which could use some working through." Stiles patted himself off as if to rub off Derek's threats, then patted himself off properly after noticing the powdery handprints Derek had left behind. "Also there is sooo much evidence here that you wouldn't dare hurt me."

"Just tell me what we do next."

"Option A is set up an appointment with a therapist." Stiles continued quickly at Derek's scowl. "But I'm guessing you have more interest in Option B: add eggs. So I'll operate the fancy gizmo," he held up the electronic mixer, "and you smash things and pour their innards into the bowl."

Derek looked from Stiles to his 'fancy gizmo' to the eggs and back. He shrugged. "Okay." He cracked an egg against the corner of the counter and pulled it open to spill it into the bowl.

"So you do know how to crack an egg." Stiles nodded, turning on the mixer to beat in the egg.

"What is it about me that makes people think I can't feed myself? I'd have starved to death by now if I couldn't." Derek frowned.

"Oh my God, that is the silliest thing to whine about." Stiles grinned as Derek added another egg.

"I'm not whining."

"Besides, aren't you loaded? I haven't noticed you having a job to pay for the sweet ride out front." Stiles nodded his head toward Derek's Camaro even though neither of them could see it now. "You could be eating out all the time."

"That's..." Derek trailed off, at a loss. "Not healthy," he came up with after a moment.

"I'll say, have you ever asked about the sodium content in most restaurant food?"

"I don't care. What next?" Derek motioned to the bowl.

"You are not very personable. Has anyone ever told you that?" Stiles crossed his arms, leaning against the counter.

"Yes. You. Next?"

"Dry stuff and cocoa. Then vanilla." Stiles frowned. "Why can't you even try to be nice? I'm helping you bake a cake for your only friend. Honestly, I'm not even sure why Isaac likes you. And don't say, 'I'm his alpha,'" Stiles deepened his voice and raised his arms in a poor 'strong-man' impression of Derek, "Because you're pretty much the only alpha here, and no one else likes you."

Derek began pouring in the other ingredients, ignoring Stiles as much as possible while relying on him to work the mixer.

"Dude, I asked you a question, and you didn't answer. I get that it was probably intentional, but that's exactly the sort of thing I was talking about." Stiles poked a finger into Derek's shoulder. "Rude."

Derek scowled. "There was a point when I was the only person Isaac had. It's his business. not yours."

"Sorry." Stiles paused for a moment. "I, uh, guess we can pour this out and bake it." He poured the batter into the cake pans he had pulled out from the start and had Derek put them in the oven.

Derek stared at Stiles with an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, yeah, next is frosting. Grab the chocolate chips for me." Stiles fetched a saucepan from the cabinet and combined the chips with half-and-half and butter.

"You're complaining about salt, but you're okay with eating that much butter?" Derek crossed his arms, watching as Stiles stirred the mixture over the stove.

"This is _dessert. _Completely different standards." Stiles scrunched up his face. "Besides, you never answered me this: you _are_ loaded, right?"

Derek frowned.

"Really? It's not even important. It's money. Come on. Give me something, Derek; we're stuck with each other until this cake is done, and you know I won't shut up."

"Insurance. Fire." The frown deepened.

"Oh. Like. Life insurance?" He shook his head, not waiting for the answer. "I should've thought of that. Sorry." Stiles did stop talking then. He kept his eyes on the contents of his saucepan while Derek leaned against the counter glaring at the side of his head. When the chips were nearly melted, Stiles turned and jumped at seeing Derek staring at him. "Grab the big bowl over there and fill it with ice. And rinse off the fancy gizmo." Stiles turned off the burner and moved the saucepan onto a cool burner. "Now we add that," he motioned to a partial bag of confectioners' sugar, "to this," he pointed to the saucepan.

Derek grabbed the sugar, frowning at it like he'd never heard of confectioners' sugar before. "Do you really just keep this stuff around?"

"Yes. Cake is important. I am always ready to create cake where before there was none." He stirred the mixture as Derek poured in the sugar.

"That's not normal," Derek said.

"Says the friggin werewolf. Non-humans don't get a say in what's normal." He paused, staring at the sugar as it fell into the chocolaty mixture. "That's enough." He moved the pan to the ice, and grinned at the steam. "When I was a kid, I thought that was the coolest thing ever." He brought it to the mixer and began beating it.

"What's the point of the ice?" Derek asked, frowning less than before.

Stiles shrugged. "I was always afraid to look it up because what if it's not necessary?"

Derek nodded because he understood holding onto memories. "After you finish that, what do we do?"

Stiles grinned. "Do you still like to lick the bowl?"

Derek's mouth might have twitched into something that wasn't a frown. He grabbed the bowl and slid his finger along the inner edge before popping it into his mouth. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Don't steal it all." Stiles frowned this time because he couldn't leave his soon-to-be-frosting until it was actual frosting.

"Stiles, you make cakes all the time. And I saw how much butter you put in both of these. You'll get fat." Derek took the bowl to the table and sat down with it, catching more cake batter on his finger.

"Did you just... make a joke at me?" Stiles blinked in confusion. "And steal my cake batter like an eight-year-old?"

Derek ignored him in favor of uncooked cake.

"Dude, that is," Stiles checked his frosting, and it still wasn't frosting. "So not fair."

Derek watched him over the bowl and pointedly raised a finger of chocolate cake batter to his mouth. "It's got my spit on it now. You don't want it."

"I know werewolf spit has no weird properties or Allison would—that was also a joke. Are you having an allergic reaction to all that sugar?"

Derek shook his head. "I just... don't often remember being happy. Cake batter is a happy memory."

Stiles finally set the mixer aside and rushed to the table. "You're still sharing." He made a grab for the bowl and came up with three chocolate fingers. He grinned, licking them off. "This is better than baked cake. Honestly."

Now that he couldn't taunt Stiles with it, Derek had slowed down in eating the batter. "Thanks, by the way, for helping. Even if your idea is still probably stupid."

"But happy cake batter."

"I don't think Isaac cares if he gets a cake or not," Derek clarified.

"Oh, well, the point is that you thought of him and tried to make him happy, not that you were a telepath who magically saw the perfect gift in his mind's eye." Stiles cocked his head. "That power would be super useful though."

Derek stared at Stiles like he was a moron until Stiles tried to steal the bowl from him.

"It's for both of us. I'm just trying to share." Stiles smiled the clearly fake smile of a cake batter thief.

"I'm not," Derek mock-growled.

"Look, pretty soon that cake is going to be cooked, and you need me alive to show you how to put it all together. So I suggest not werewolf growling at or threatening me." Stiles jabbed a finger in Derek's face.

"Just this once," Derek said, pushing the bowl toward Stiles. He didn't smile, but he didn't scowl either.

**~.x.~**

Derek sat in the dark on what passed for his couch, staring at the gift he'd bought Isaac.

A knock came at the door, and Derek smelled Stiles. "Go away," he shouted.

"Rude," Stiles said, opening the door for himself. "Where's the birthday boy?" He flipped on the lights.

"Out."

"I thought you were going to give him his cake and party together or something." Stiles dropped a small wrapped box beside Derek's gift and dropped himself onto the couch.

"He made other plans." Derek crossed his arms. "So you can go now. I'll tell him you dropped that off."

"Did he at least like the cake?" Stiles settled into the couch facing Derek.

"I didn't tell him about it."

"Did he like the obviously new TV and Xbox you're glaring at?" Stiles nodded at it like Derek couldn't find it on his own.

"He hasn't been home yet."

"Is that why you're sitting in the dark like a teenage girl whose crush went to the dance with her best friend?" Stiles rolled his eyes. "He can't spend time with you if you don't tell him you want to."

"Go home, Stiles."

"Dude, you're miserable and alone. You were literally sitting in the dark glaring at the present you bought your only friend. What kind of a person would I be if I left now?"

"A good kind. And it's _his_ birthday. Isaac can do what he wants," Derek said.

"Sure, but you're still crying on the inside. I can hear your little soul tears trickling down. Anyway, who is he out with? Erica?"

"Scott."

That brought Stiles up short. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his messages. "Huh."

Derek tried to resist, but finally had to ask, "What?"

"They didn't invite me."

"Obviously." Derek rolled his eyes.

"No, I mean. My best friend didn't invite me to celebrate a mutual friend's birthday, but _you_ did." he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

"You invited yourself," Derek pointed out.

"Yeah, but you didn't stop me until after you realized there wasn't a party." Stiles shrugged. "Anyway, let's go eat the cake."

"It's Isaac's cake."

"We'll save him some."

Derek heard a gasp and realized he'd been listening to, and subconsciously ignoring, two familiar heartbeats since shortly after Stiles accused him of crying. "I know you're out there," he said, mentally berating himself because had it been anyone else, he could have been dead by now.

"Who? Who's out where?" Stiles' eyes darted from the windows to the door. "Are we about to almost die again?"

"No," Derek said. He kept his own eyes on the door until Isaac and Scott entered.

"Hey-hey!" Stiles grinned. "Birthday boy, have a happy one."

Isaac's eyes were fixed on Derek. "You got me a cake?" He sounded confused.

Derek nodded, but Stiles said, "No, dude, he _baked_ you a cake."

"You can bake?" Scott sounded more confused than Isaac had.

"Stiles helped."

At the mention of his name, Isaac's eyes shifted to Stiles. Then he noticed Derek's gift for him against the wall. "Is that..." He paused, eying Derek cautiously. "A giant red glittery bow?"

"I had no hand in that," Stiles pointed out. "It's all Derek. One-hundred percent Derek Seems-grumpy-but-is-secretly-a-cornball-of-cheesiness Hale."

"I'm going to break your hand," Derek said, grabbing Stiles' fingers. "And then your stove."

Stiles pulled his hand away to cover his mouth. "You wouldn't!" He ruined the effect somewhat by snickering.

"I'm really confused," Scott said. "Is anyone else here really confused?" He looked to Isaac.

Isaac ignored Scott. Instead, he moved forward to drop himself next to Derek on the couch. "I thought you... didn't care." He shrugged, but then his eyes widened. "Not that I thought you didn't care about me." He raised his hands to fight off an attack Derek never sent his way. "Just about celebrating in general. You seemed like more of a... don't bother unless it's practical sort of guy." Isaac's eyes strayed back to the bow on his new TV. "Not really a cheesy red bow and baking cakes sort of guy." He stretched out a hand to Derek' shoulder. "Sorry."

"You shouldn't apologize," Derek grumbled. "It's your birthday."

Isaac smiled like nothing could ever be wrong again. "Scott," he said. "Tell everyone to meet us here."

"Yeah, okay." Scott pulled out his phone and began texting.

"Not to ruin such a lovely moment," Stiles said, "But what were you two even doing here anyway?"

"We passed your Jeep on the road," Isaac answered. "And... we wanted to know what you could possibly be doing with Derek." He chuckled. "Baking apparently."

Derek frowned.

"Well, I want to know what you could possibly be doing not inviting me to your party." Stiles shoved his finger against Isaac's chest. "Or Derek. Why wasn't Derek invited?"

"I was," Derek said. "I don't party."

"You were too," Isaac told Stiles. "I told Scott to call you."

"I received no call." Stiles turned to his best friend. "Scott?"

"Don't look at me, dude, I told your dad when he answered the phone instead of you." Scott continued texting.

"Oh." Stiles cringed. "He _did_ say he had something to tell me, right before I ignored him and ran out of the house because I was late."

Derek rolled his eyes.

Isaac smiled again. "So I heard there was cake."

Derek nodded and got off the couch, heading for the mini-fridge in the corner. "I didn't get candles." He pulled the cake out and set it on a small table against the wall.

"I did," Stiles said, pulling them from his pocket. He grinned and carefully counted out the candles, pushing them through the frosting near the cake's edges. "Where are your knives?"

"I thought I'd just cut it with my claws."

Stiles paused, turned, and stared at Derek. "Joking again, right?"

"They're under the table in one of those plastic tubs," Isaac said. "I think someone wrote 'not weapons' on it, and I just realized it might have been Derek." He smirked.

Stiles served them each a slice and followed the others back to the couch to eat since there wasn't a table. "Seriously, Derek, you need a better place to live. This is no place to raise werepuppies."

"Not a puppy." Isaac pointed his plastic fork at Stiles.

"Dude, you're a little bit a puppy," Stiles said.

Scott snorted but pretended not to have and shoved cake into his mouth. "Mmm," he said around a mouthful of chocolate, "Spiles makes de beth kecks."  
"Thank you, Scott." Stiles grinned. "But give Derek a little credit too for not screwing it up."

Derek frowned. "Was that even in English?"

"Who is Beth?" Isaac asked.

Scott cleared his throat of cake. "I said, 'Stiles makes the best cakes.'"

"Obviously," Stiles said.

The door opened then as the others began to arrive. Stiles directed them to the cake, and they quickly agreed that Spiles did indeed make de beth kecks. They kept giving Derek funny looks at learning he had helped. The looks only got worse when they noticed the bow he'd put on the TV.

With a sigh, Derek finally lifted a bite of cake to his lips. It was delicious. "I haven't had cake in a long time," he said.

"When's your birthday?" Stiles asked, "I'll bake you one too if you want. Do you have a favorite flavor?"

Derek stared at Stiles until he shrugged and muttered something under his breath about ungrateful werewolves.

"So, anyway, do you get enough power here to try that baby out?" Stiles motioned with his fork to the TV and had to scramble not to drop cake on the floor. He managed to grab it in his hand and shove it into his mouth.

"Hey, I think that's _my_ baby," Isaac pointed out. "And of course we have enough power."

"We shouldn't use it too long though," Derek said, "Someone might notice if we draw too much power."

"Wait, are you powering this place illegally?" Jackson raised an eyebrow. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. It is kind of a shithole."

"Hey, I think that's _my_ shithole," Isaac threw his fork at Jackson.

Lydia roller her eyes and whispered, "Boys," to Erica who smirked.

"We all heard that, you know," Jackson said.

"I know." Lydia popped a bite of cake into her mouth.

Derek turned to Isaac. "You _should_ try your 'baby' out though." He tried to smile but only managed to frown less. It was hard with this many people around. Derek didn't party.

A grin lit up Isaac's face as Derek handed him a remote and controller from the cardboard box they used as a coffee table. "Thanks, Derek." He looked around the room at his friends. "This is the best birthday I've had in a long time."

As Isaac turned on the system and started setting up his Xbox, Stiles leaned over to Derek, "Told you he'd love it."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Maybe it wasn't too stupid an idea." He pitched his voice low even though he knew the others would still be able to hear. "Thanks."

Stiles grinned. Derek's mouth quirked just enough to count as a smile.

**~.x.~**

I used a chocolate cake recipe from momswhothinkdotcom. Other postings will have a proper link, sorry.

Thanks to Nicole for yelling at me until I made the ending happier. :3 Also Nicole's sister for stuffing her mouth and trying to say, "Stiles makes the best cakes."


End file.
